


Of Monsters and Men

by RosevalleyNB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Crack, F/M, Horror, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:03:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosevalleyNB/pseuds/RosevalleyNB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents…. They are accidents and no one’s fault, as used to be thought. - John Steinbeck, East of Eden.</p><p> </p><p>The question is, who are these monsters? What defines a monster? Ask Katie and Marcus, they seem to have pretty good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Monsters and Men

**Author's Note:**

> Anything recognizable belongs to their rightful owners. This work of fiction was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

The man on the floor screamed and twitched in agony as the Cruciatus Curse coursed through his body. His nails broke off as his fingers involuntary scratched the stone floor, but he didn’t feel it. His screams echoed off the dungeon walls, the shrill sound only adding to his pain and fear. This had been going for hours now and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold on. He prayed for his body to give out already and relieve him from this torture. Nevertheless, each time he felt himself drift off into blissful oblivion, the brute would revive him, let him catch his breath for a minute and then start all over again.

Squatted down and rocking back and forth on the heels, Marcus watched the man on the floor with a childish curiosity and excitement. No matter how many times he did this, casting this particular curse never grew old. Each movement, each scream differed from the one before. He had learnt to appreciate the beauty of it. He only wished that he the time to do this more often, it was a great stress reliever and pastime. However, between running his family business and other obligations, he rarely had the time to scout for the ideal subject and luring them into the manor’s dungeons without arousing suspicion.

He could pluck any witch or wizard to satisfy his needs, but that held no challenge at all. Besides, not everyone could meet his requirements. First, his potential toys needed to deserve their special treatment one way or another. Usually, crossing his path and breathing in the wrong direction was enough for a nomination. Then, the excruciating process of researching his potential toy’s private life would start; he needed the dirty secrets and deeply buried scandals before he could honour them with the Flint Exclusive Treatment. In other words, he was doing their society a favour by ridding them of the scum of the earth. The last part of the process, and the most difficult, was befriending his toy and eventually invite them back to his parlour, so to speak. It was essential to eliminate any potential risks so no one would able to tie them back to Marcus. Just in case, someone discovered their bodies, that is. The North Sea had proved herself a faithful friend.

“P-please,” the man panted when Marcus lifted the curse. His voice was nothing but a whisper. 

Marcus dropped forward on his hands and knees and crept forward, a faint smile darting around his mouth. Gods, he loved it when they begged, tried to negotiate. He loved the game of playing along and then ‘change his mind’ the very last second. His bit his lips as he studied the man, pretending to think. After a few short seconds, he shook his head in a mock apology and pointed his wand at the man again. “Crucio!”

As soon as the man began screaming, Marcus return to his squatting position and watched the interesting display before him. Who knew the human body could twist itself into such positions?

It was during the final rise of Voldemort, nearly ten years ago, when Marcus had found his passion. Well, gave into, to be more precise. The war had provided him with an opportunity he would be ever thankful for. After all, it had shaped him into the man he was today. His family had remained neutral during that dark period, not wanting to get involved in something as commonplace as war and had warned their son not to get involved. Being the good son, he hadn’t. This had allowed him to experiment to his heart’s desire without anyone noticing. After all, a dead Death Eater or Order member could easily be pinned on the other side. No one would suspect a normal young man from a respectable family without ties to either side.

The only time Marcus had openly shown off his ‘talents’ had been during the Battle of Hogwarts. He had just turned up and started fighting without choosing a particular side. He had flung curses at whoever had happened to cross his path. It had been all about the torture and killing, he hadn’t given a shit about whom he hit. The feeling of casting Unforgivables and even darker spells without ramifications had been exhilarating and strangely, utterly freeing. For the first time in his life, he had felt alive. Right then and there, he had decided that he wanted to do this over and over again. He had and he still did.

Sighing, he lifted the curse from the man with some regret. His vocal cords were clearly shredded; all the man managed now were hoarse and wheezing sounds. It was time for something else. Marcus stood up and stretched out lazily before he summoned his book to pick another spell to play with. Maybe, he ought to try a cutting spell and then rub the wounds with salt. On the other hand, he had always wanted to try out that nightmare charm that would have the man tear off the skin of his face. Hard decisions to make, indeed.

The man, Ignatius Walker, gasped for air as a bloody foam formed on his lips. His lungs had collapsed under the continuous strain on his body. With a sluggish flick of Marcus’ wand, Ignatius breathing returned to normal. It wouldn’t do if his toy gave out before his time.

Ignatius had this long time coming, Marcus believed. He had first encountered the man a year ago when he had come to his office to ask for a donation for the orphanage he ran. The man’s fine robes and shiny shoes had rubbed Marcus in the wrong way. It had reminded him strongly of Gilderoy Lockhart, someone who had been on his wish list for years. If only he could get into the Janus Thickey Ward unnoticed.

One day, he would get his hands on Lockhart. He was sure of it. 

Anyway, after meeting with Walker, Marcus had gone to work and found some interesting things about him; his wife and two daughters had mysteriously disappeared during the war and the orphanage he ran had some serious monetary problems. It didn’t take long for Marcus to find out that the missing family members had ended up underneath the newly built addition to the orphanage. In addition, Walker used the charity money to finance his lavish lifestyle. Just when he had thought that he had enough on him, Marcus had found out that the man had difficulties with keeping his hands off the young boys and girls under his care. And when he was done with them, the children usually vanished without a trace. Yes, the man deserved the most exclusive treatment Marcus had to offer him tonight.

“Which one to pick?” Marcus mused to himself as he tapped his chin with his long finger. There were so many possibilities. Then, a brilliant idea hit him and he turned on his heels to face the man. Ignatius still twitched uncontrollably, a common side effect of the Cruciatus. Rather amusing to watch, really. “What do you think, Mr Walker?”

Ignatius response was a bloody gurgle to Marcus’ annoyance. His toys were supposed to bleed when he wanted them to, not on their own accord. Walker had cheated and cheaters infuriated Marcus to no end. He stalked towards him and grabbed the man’s chin as he crouched to his level. The fear on Walker’s face made him smile. “Open up, Mr Walker.” When the man didn’t comply fast enough for his liking, Marcus jerked his head roughly from side to side. “Don’t make me do it for you.”

Tears ran down Ignatius’ cheeks into his neatly trimmed sideburns. His jaw muscles, like every other muscle in his body, had cramped. He tried to open his mouth, but only managed a narrow slit. When Flint stuck two fingers into his mouth and brutally pressed down his jaw, he would have screamed bloody murder in pain. He would have if his body hadn’t been spent already. A wheeze was all that came out.

“You’ve bitten off your tongue,” Marcus stated dryly. He studied the men’s mouth to make sure that the piece of flesh wouldn’t block his breathing. Walker was to die on his terms, not simply choke on his own tongue. “You must have swallowed it. I hope you enjoyed your last meal. Now, where were we? Oh yes.” Marcus forced the man to sit upright and shoved the book in his hands. “Mr Walker, please choose your next punishment.”

[][][][]

Just for the joy of it, Marcus broke his own rule and healed the man vocal cords just to hear his screams and sobs. Even though the sound of tearing skin and flesh was as music to his ears, the lyrics to go with it had been missing. Currently, Walker flocked his own back with a leather whip with spikes. Muscles were exposed and with each contact, blood sprayed around and decorated the damp walls with spatter. The end was near for him, even with the Imperious to keep him going, his body was losing strength and blood in an alarming rate. Marcus watched the man intently in an attempt to predict when the time would be near. He didn’t want the man to die yet. In his concentration, he had failed to notice that a visitor had slid into the dungeon room.

“Marcus, stop,” the soft voice called.

Walker immediately fell to the ground panting when the eye contact broke. He felt the life seep out of him and prayed to whoever listened that death would come soon now. If he had been able to lift his head, he would have thanked the owner of the voice for stopping the monster. However, as it was, he was too weak to do anything more than breathe.

Marcus froze for a second before he turned around to face the person standing behind him. He felt caught. In the door opening stood his wife, watching him with a frown. She had her arms folded and tapped her foot as she watched him with raised brows. As usual, a grin graced his face at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to call her his wife, his Katie. 

“Did you have a good night with the girls?” he asked casually, hoping to distract her enough from what he had been doing.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she slowly came closer and studied the man on the floor. She looked like a cat on a prowl and Marcus felt his chest puff up in pride. There were streaks of blood on her cheeks and light coloured robes, she must have watched them for a while. Unfortunately, the scowl that had formed on her face didn’t bode well.

“He’s a mess,” Katie stated flatly and turned to her husband to jab his chest with her finger, “You were supposed to wait for me.”

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d be out, I got bored.” Marcus shrugged, not seeing the problem.

Katie rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Really, Marcus, you need to restrain yourself. This is the second time you’ve done this.” She knew how eager he could get whenever he managed to find a new toy. Nevertheless, they had a deal and she expected him to honour that. “We were supposed to play together,” she snapped, “I wanted to try something.”

“Sorry, love,” Marcus offered and took her in his arms for a belated kiss, in the hopes to placate her. He loved the way the blood beautified her delicate face. It made her look like some kind of ancient warrior. “He got on my nerves over dinner, I couldn’t help myself,” he apologised again when they broke away from their kiss.

“Fine, just don’t let it happen again.” Katie dropped her head on his chest and watched the pile of man on the floor. “Do you want to hear what it is what I want to try?”

“Sure.”

As Katie told him about a Muggle film she had heard with an explicit torture scene, Ignatius Walker started breathing harder in panic. For a minute, he had believed that the arrival of the woman would be his rescue or a chance at a peaceful death. But, what the woman seemed to suggest was even more horrendous than what Flint had done to him. He started crying, cursing the gods for his fate.

“That sounds interesting,” Marcus appraised his wife’s idea. “Would make the disposing a lot easier.”

“Yeah, I really want to give it try.” She looked up at him, batting her lashes to convince him. They always followed his lead; it was her turn for a change. 

“Then we will, love.”

Marcus smiled at her eagerness. He had never thought it to be possible to share this side of him with anyone. He had found Katie during the height of the battle in one of the many corridors at Hogwarts. Hidden behind her pillar, and ready to pounce on her, he had seen her stun a Death Eater. That hadn’t been special in itself, but what had happened next, had been. She had sliced the man’s throat open and had crouched over him to watch the light slowly die out in his eyes. She looked like she had been inhaling the man’s last breath. The expression of excitement on her face had been hard to miss, and in that moment, Marcus had realised that he had found someone else just like himself. Much later, he had learnt that she had known that he had been watching all along.

It took him nearly a year to persuade her to admit and give into her urges. In the end, a little present had done the trick; Draco Malfoy left to her mercy as a revenge for the cursed necklace. She hadn’t killed the younger Malfoy that night, merely returned the favour. Malfoy might have survived that night; he would never be able to talk about it. The strong spells they had cast on him made sure of that. That, and for the rest of his life, Malfoy would relive that night over and over again whenever he closed his eyes. Yes, his Katie was creative like that.

It also had been her idea to be more selective with their potential new toys. As a true Gryffindor, she hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of ‘playing around’ with innocent witches and wizards. Taking Malfoy as an example, they only went after those who deserved it, who would go unpunished otherwise. It was fun and more exciting.

“I’m ready when you are,” Katie announced proudly. She had conjured a glass tub in the middle of the room and beamed in excitement. “Don’t just stand there, levitate him in there,” she urged impatiently when Marcus took too long to move.

Marcus did as she ordered and levitated the man in the tub. Walkers’ head lay limply on the edge as he faintly struggled against the bounds they had put on him. The puddle of blood collecting underneath his body was visible through the glass, smearing across the bottom with each movement.

Katie took her husband’s hand in hers, squeezing it firmly, and whispered a new spell, one of her own creations. “Acidum.”

At first, nothing happened, nearly killing the couple as they held their breath in anticipation. Then a clear liquid, turning pink as it mixed with the blood, slowly filled the tub. It wasn’t until Ignatius started screaming like a pig on its way to the slaughterhouse that the show really started. At first enormous blisters formed on the man’s skin, soon replaced by bleeding wounds, deepening the colour of the liquid. Marcus and Katie watched in fascination as the acid slowly ate away at Walker’s body, one layer at a time. Skin, muscles and sinew, organs and bones dissolved before their eyes. His screams and pleas fell on deaf ears; they didn’t even notice when he eventually stopped.

They weren’t sure how long they stood there watching Ignatius Walker slowly turn into nothing more than a puddle of goo. It wasn’t until the sharp stench became too much to bare that Katie let out a contented sigh and turned to leave the dungeon. “That was nice,” she murmured and kissed Marcus’ cheek, “Don’t take too long with the cleaning, I want to tell you about my evening before I fall asleep.”

“Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” Marcus bent down to trail kisses along her throat and grabbed her bum firmly; he desperately needed a release for the excitement coursing through his body.

Laughing, Katie wriggled herself free and took a step, “Mum’s returning the boys in the morning. I don’t want them to see…that,” she made a waving gesture at the bathtub. “You know how curious they can get.”

“Come on, love,” Marcus whined in vain, “I’ll get up early to get it done.”

“No, you won’t. Do it now or the smell will take over the whole house,” Katie told him sternly and patted her slightly rounding belly. “I’ve enough troubles in the morning as it is. Now, get started and I’ll make it your worthwhile.” She stood on her toes and planted a soft kiss on his lips, a promise for more if he did as she told him to do.

“Fine, you wench,” Marcus grumbled and watched his wife leave the dungeon, her hips swaying to drive him crazy and urge him to hurry up. As he set to work on cleaning the mess Walker left behind, all he could think about was his wife and her delicious body waiting for him.

It didn’t take long before the dungeon was clean again. The tub and its contents had found their way to Muggle London’s sewers; a change couldn’t hurt for once in a while. As soon as he finished, Marcus practically flew through the house to collect his reward. A night without the disturbance of their two sons was a rarity and he wanted to make the best of it. Especially now that number three was to arrive in a few short months.

Katie lay on the bed, dressed in nothing more than her bra and knickers, waiting for him. As Marcus covered her body with his, all he could think about was how lucky he was. From a loner, disliked by many, she had turned him into a husband and father, loved and cherished by his growing family.

Moreover, she stood by him, no matter what, whilst they rid the world of one monster at a time.


End file.
